The Arena
by BeterThanDexter
Summary: 25 nations. One arena. Who will do you think will make it out alive?
1. Chapter 1

***England***

England took a good five minutes to fully wake up. He had a pounding headache. For a moment he thought it was only a hangover, that would explain the current loss of memory, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He'd had hangovers before, many times, and this was something different. Something drug induced maybe? The green eyed nation slowly raised himself into a sitting position. Jungle surrounded him. _What on earth was I doing last night? _ He wondered, _and where the bloody hell am I? _Then he saw the heavily decorated cutlass. His old pirate weapon. He ran a finger across the smooth polished blade. _A weapon? But why- _And then he remembered. And he knew exactly where he was. England climbed to his feet and hoisted his cutlass. There wasn't anything he could do, but walk. Maybe he'd get lucky and find something to eat. Maybe.

*** Five hours later ***

England paused again. There it was, just barely, footsteps echoing his. He frowned, fed up with walking, hungry, and feeling hung-over. He wasn't putting up with this. After a few more steps he suddenly spun around, brandishing his weapon and… Found his blade pointed directly between two sky blue eyes.

"America?" England asked in slight disbelief.

"Yeah! Hey Iggy! Didn't think I'd see you so soon, ya know? I saw japan earlier, he was like meditating or something, I didn't wanna disturb him, but then I did I did anyways and he said that he would find me later so I set up a trail for him so- hey! Dude! Nice sword thing! So not as cool as my weapon, though, not as awesome! Of course I'm the hero so-"

England sighed and started walking away from the sound of the Americans loud babbling. To his great dismay, America followed.

"Why are you following me, you bloody git?" he growled.

"Oh, you know, Iggy, we're an alliance right? Better chances if you stick together and all that. Besides you need a hero, like me, to protect you." America shifted the shotgun in his hands to his shoulder and laughed.

"The last thing I need is-"

"And I have food!"

"Well, in that case, we make camp an hour from now."

*** Edge of the Dead Woods***

Canada leaned against a stone like obsidian tree. He swung the steel hockey stick onto his back, carefully watching the figure standing opposite of him through the deep snow. The figure tapped a length of pipe against his leg.

The two cold nations stared at each other for a long time. Then the one with the pipe smiled.

"Maybe not today, da?"

"No. Not today."

And the two turned, as if on unspoken alliance, and headed in separate directions.

***In the Ocean***

"Gah! Who dares drop the awesome me into the middle of an ocean? Wait! Where is anybody? Hello? Well, guess I better start swimming. I wonder where Gilbird is? Oh shit! I just remembered what's going on here! Wait again! Why am I talking out loud to myself? Because I'm awesome! Keseseseseseseseses! Alright, I'm stopping now." Prussia shouted to himself, struggling to keep his head above water. After 10 minutes or so of being buffeted by the waves, Prussia spotted a thin strip of land on the horizon.

***The Mountains***

"Liechtenstein! Liechtenstein! Where are you?"

"I'm right here big bruder, calm down."

"Thank goodness. I was worried about you."

"What do we do now big bruder?"

"We need to find shelter, and food. And stay away from other nations at all costs."

***The Cave Systems***

Belarus knew exactly what was going on from the moment she woke up. She didn't care.

"Where are you big brother? _Where are you?"_

She clutched her meat cleaver to her chest and searched the surrounding landscape. Caves behind her, a large river before her.

"Big brother. I will find you."

She scuttled backwards into the cave, eyes flashing in the darkness. Waiting.

***The Cave Systems – Across the river***

Hungary shot awake, immediately hitting the person next to her with her frying pan. It was Austria. She didn't apologize, just dismissed him as a threat.

"I have a horrible headache," she commented, taking in her surroundings, "do you?"

Austria rubbed the growing lump on his head, "I do now."

"Well that's too bad…" She trailed off, noticing a small cave. "Hey Austria."

"Yes?"

"Can you go check out that cave?"

"What? Why can't you do it?"

"Because you can't fight. Or fish. Or hunt. Or-"

"Alright. Yes. I get it."

"Good. We need to set up camp now. And stay away from the others. Remember what happened?"

"Yes. And why don't I have a weapon?"

"Because you can't-"

"Alright. I get it. Again."

"Very good."

***The Cliffs***

"Oh not again," France muttered sleepily. His head was pounding and he'd woken up to feel grass beneath him. He twisted to the right expecting to find one of three things, one or both of his best friends passed out beside him, hearing Prussia laugh at him, or a woman. He found a longsword.

"Qu'est que…" his left hand fell through open air.

France's eyes flew open. He was laying at the edge of a cliff. Another inch and he would've fallen. He tried to back up to fast, not expecting the ache in his legs, and slipped. Desperately he grabbed for the hilt of his sword, but that only drug him down further, Sending him plunging down into the ocean below.

Good thing there were no rocks. Good thing there was a strip of beach so close. Sadly, for France, saltwater isn't too good for your hair. Or silk.

***Blank White Space***

When Romano woke up he was immediately pissed off, not that he ever wasn't pissed off, but still.

"Where is that damn tomato bastard? Or my stupid fratello for that matter?"

"I'm right here Romano!" he could hear the smile on his brothers face. It pissed him off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Uhh… floating in blank white space, I guess."

"What do you…"the grumpy Italian looked around. "What the hell? Where are we?"

"Floating in blank white space."

"No shit, but how is it possible?"

"Maybe the pasta gods-"

"Never mind, shut up, let's get out of here."

***England and America***

"And then I was all AND IM THE HERO! And he was all like-"

"America! Shut up, you bloody git! I don't care!"

"But Iggy!"

"Don't call me that! It's not my name! You need to quiet down or somebody will find us!"

"Fine Artie, don't get you knickers in a twist." America giggled, "Knickers."

***The Desert***

Greece nodded awake long enough to see a set of Spartan battle armor and weapons beside him.

"Hmmm… Haven't seen… those things in a while…" and promptly fell back asleep. It was so nice and warm…

***The Jungle***

Japan edged his way around the trees. If he was forced to play, then he was going to play to win. He would have had more time, had that stupid American not disturbed his meditation. Concentration was needed for this.

There.

Another country perched among the trees, hardly visible. He wasn't dressed as he normally was, wearing camo as opposed to red and white, but Japan still recognized Finland. If he got into range he knew Finland would shoot. They weren't exactly… friends.

So he took the long way around, careful not to make a sound. Finland was scanning the area in two 180⁰ motions. Japan waited till he swept back to the left before leaping gracefully into the branches behind the small nation. As if sensing that someone was close Finland spun around, leveling the barrel of his sniper rifle with Japan's heart.

With reflexes like greased lightning Japan twisted out of the way, knowing he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger, and that the high power rifle would kill him instantly. Swinging his katana in a deadly arc, Japan was met with the cold ringing of steel on steel as his blade sliced into the barrel of Finland's weapon. The Finnish man used the momentum to knock his opponent off balance, sending him flying out of the tree with a single hit of his gun.

Japan flipped in the air, skidding to a stop below Finland's perch.

Finland studied his weapon; suprisingly the cut was deep enough to render the gun useless.

"You can't shoot it." Japan observed calmly.

"Don't be too sure," Finland made a move as if to fire, but at the last moment changed tactics.

"What-"Japan's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the alcohol bomb resting at his feet.

**BOOM!**

Finland smiled slightly and dropped from the tree. There was no way anyone could have survived that. Smoke floated up through the treetops, eventually clearing from the clearing to reveal-

"No! How are you still alive?"

Blood ran down the dark haired nations face, the left side of his military uniform was shredded. He glared at Finland.

"That's… Impossible-"

And then the steel katana cut off his last words.

***The Shadow Box***

A dark figure observed the 25 nations moving through the huge arena. No. Make that 24.

Who had that been? Ah, Finland.

The figure set up a single message.

•That's the first one down.

I told you I wasn't playing.

Guess Christmas won't be coming around

this year•

Something was noticed on the corpse. Blue silk. The figures teeth gleamed in the shadows. Japan had a plan then. It couldn't hurt to play along.

•Au reviour, Finland•


	2. Chapter 2

***The Wetlands***

Sweden glanced up as the sky went pitch black. A message looking as if it were scrawled in stars appeared. He read it slowly, anger pouring into his veins.

It was a long time after the message disappeared before he stood again. He secured his arsenal. At least now he had a target.

***The Beach***

Spain hefted his Hal-bred and walked down the beach. He appeared to anybody watching like he normally did, happy, smiling, nonchalant, but anybody who knew him could see the cold glint in his eye he got around times of war. About 10 yards up the beach a body washed ashore.

"Surely nobody dead. The only announcement was Finland and that sure doesn't look like him." Spain rambled out loud to himself, walking to the body.

"Prussia!"

"Unghmph."

"You okay man?"

Prussia rolled onto his back. "You got any beer?"

"Nope~!"

"Then no, I'm not okay."

"So I take it you want to stick together for now then?"

"Yeah, let's go find France. We're getting the band back together!"

"Prussia?"

"Yeah?"

"We were never a band."

"Well we should a been! We'd a been the most awesome kick-ass band ever!"

"Somehow I don't see that."

"Whatever man, whatever."

***Dessert Area***

Where was Italy? That idiot was terrible in situations like this! When that announcement went up he was so terrified that it was going to be Italy who was dead. Something seemed off though; he didn't think France could possibly kill Finland. That man may look innocent, but he knew what he was doing.

"Germany! Germany help! Germanyyyyy!

Italy! "Italy where are you?"

"Germany? Ve~ Germany! I don't know, there's nothing here, it's scary!"

"Shut-up fratello! There's nothing here to be scared of. Plus we don't need damn potato-bastard!"

And Romano. "Don't worry Italy," he sighed, "I'm coming."

***Wetlands***

"Come on Poland! If we cross the river we can hide in the caves!"

"But Liet! I like totally think Belarus might, like, be in there!

"So? She won't hurt us!"

Poland sighed over-dramatically. It wasn't worth arguing. Somehow Liet had gotten it into his head that Belarus didn't want to hurt them. Oh well, as long as he couldn't find a way across the river, everything would be just fine.

"Look Poland! A bridge!"

"What? Like where?"

"Right here!"

"OMG Liet, that is like, so totally not a bridge!"

Though even as he said it Lithuania had already started crossing the not-bridge; all it was, was two ropes, one about 5 feet above the water, the second about 5 feet above that.

"Like, wait for me Liet, I'm not letting you go alone."

***Caves***

She heard somebody crossing the river. Could it be big brother? She had to find out!

"Big brother? Is that you?"

"Belarus?" a voice called back "No, it's not Russia, its Lithuania."

Another voice, quieter this time. "Liet! Like, shhh!"

She stepped out of the darkness of the cave. The first voice started walking towards her. She didn't stop him.

"Hey Belarus! How're you?"

"What do you want? Where is big brother?"

"I don't know, I-"he cut off suddenly, a knife at his throat.

"You don't know where big brother is. I have no use for you."

"But Belarus!" the words died on his lips as his head fell to the ground.

***The Shadow Box***

What's this? Two already? Well, well, they certainly were a bloodthirsty bunch weren't they?

Another message:

•You were warned to stay out of the darkness, Lithuania

Maybe you should have listened.

Or at least known where her dearest big brother was•

23 left. It should be getting dark soon.

***Austria and Hungary***

Hungary squinted up at the message. She leapt up and drug Austria away from the cave.

"What are you doing?"

"Didn't you read the message? And hear that scream? That was Poland! Lithuania is _dead!_ Belarus is in the caves! We are leaving!"

Austria fell silent and allowed her to lead him further towards the middle. Now, in this situation, Hungary had completely dropped any attempt to be womanly and reverted back to her warrior state.

***Poland***

She raised the blade to her lips, tasting the crimson liquid bathing the edge. Poland took a small step back, yet she just smirked and retreated back into the caves, leaving Poland with the corpse of his best friend.

"Lie-Liet this like, t-totally isn't funny…" he stammered, the realization of what had just happened sinking in, "Please get up. Liet? Liet…?"

He sank to his knees. He had screamed when Lithuania had first been killed, but now he could hardly breathe. Hardly choke out the first sobs.

***The Desert***

Germany trudged through the hot sand, ignoring Romano's constant complaining and Italy's attempts to convince him it wasn't all that bad. He'd had a hard enough time finding them in all that blank space. Now they just needed water. He stopped suddenly, noticing someone. Romano crashed into his back.

"Hey! Potato-bastard! Watch it!"

"Oh! Look Germany, its Greece! Should we wake him up?"

"No, we'll leave him alone." Germany sighed. What he thought they should do was kill him now, but Italy didn't like death, and Greece wouldn't attack them, so… They trudged on.

***Strip of Beach***

France slowly blinked his eyes open. Someone was poking his face.

"Mes aimes?" he asked, looking from face to face.

"Who else could be this awesome?" Prussia smirked.

"What happened to you?" Spain asked seriously, "You look-"

"Hey, do you think we would've made an awesome band, or what?" Prussia butted in.

France thought about it. "Didn't we try that once? Remember when England was going through his punk phase, and we were drunk…"

They all cringed, remembering. Prussia rubbed his eyes.

"Whatever, bad example…. And next time, France, I play the banjo."

***The Plains***

He knew what was going on, he couldn't believe it, but then again he didn't really have much of a choice now did he? Stalking towards the forest, wok in tow, he didn't notice Denmark till moment before he tripped over him, sprawling on the ground.

"Hey there Denmark…"

"China."

***Mountains***

Turkey loved this. It reminded him of when he was the Ottoman Empire. Killing people, conquering land, it was the life. He couldn't wait to cross paths with someone, anyone, to feel that blood running over his skin.

There! Someone was meandering through the trees. Who was it? Looked like Ukraine. _Boing, boing, boing._ Yup, definitely Ukraine. Doesn't sound like much of a challenge, but, wait! Whoa! She had an AK-47! No fair! I only had a pair of brass knuckles. Well, I guess if I sneak up on her she wouldn't be able to get a shot off. He looped around behind her so she wouldn't see him coming. If he got just a little closer he could knock the gun out of her hands. Just a little closer…

"Who's there?" she asked suddenly.

Turkey didn't answer. He lunged forward in a last ditch effort to get the gun. **SMACK! **He wasn't able to grab it, but he did face-plant into it, which at least made her lose her grip. The gun went spinning off into the thick underbrush. Turkey grabbed his nose, blood already dripping out, it was probably broken. His first punch swung wide, missing Ukraine completely, and causing her to step back. His second punch connected solidly. There was a sickening crunching noise and he could feel her bone breaking as blood erupted from her face, coating his hand in warmth. She tried to fight back, but it was over before it began. Turkey got in another strike and another and Ukraine was losing too much blood. Swaying slightly, she fell to her knees. Three blows later all that was left of her head was a pile of mush and some fragments of broken bone.

Not feeling guilty or sympathetic in the least Turkey sauntered away, licking the blood off his hands and as if questioning the trees around him asked aloud, "If I were Greece, where would I be?"

***The Shadow Box***

The figure giggled in delight. What a bloody kill! You'd think you wouldn't dare touch Ukraine! On Turkey, what powerful enemies you have made.

•With brass-knuckles against an AK, it shouldn't have been much of a fight.

But Turkey beat those odds.

And now you can't even recognize Ukraine's face•


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well crap. I've forgotten to put disclaimers on my first to chapters haven't I? Well here you go, I do not own Hetalia, and if I did I would be doing much better things with my life than writing fan fiction. Odds are I will end up not having any more authors' notes, so that disclaimer goes for the entire story. Not like my nonexistent ownership of Hetalia changes with the chapters or anything… **

***Canada***

His hands tensed on the hockey stick, knuckles turning white. It hadn't seemed… real up until now, but Ukraine… Ukraine was all too real to him. Now she was gone. Just like that.

He dropped the stick to the ground, leaning heavily on it.

"Just one less person in this world who knows I exist…" he shook his head, "and there were all ready so few."

***Russia***

The frozen nations smile disappeared with every word of the new message.

"My… sister?" he breathed, hand going to his throat, fingering his scarf. "She can't be dead… no one would dare hurt her while I protect her…"

But you weren't there to protect her, where you, Russia?

***England and America***

England woke up sometime in the middle of the night and found America missing. He sat up quickly.

"Where did you go, you git?" he muttered, partially annoyed, partially worried.

He stood and clutched his sword, making his way to the edge of the camp. America had made a pretty clear trail from his sleeping place, never having been one for stealth. After a few minutes of walking England could hear the younger nation whispering, or, as it was, yelling.

"Yeah! I found Iggy too, and-"

"What are you doing you idiot?" England demands, bursting through the trees.

"Wha- oh, Iggy. I found Mattie!" the American throws his arm around a blonde in a red hoodie with a white maple leaf. "Great, huh? Now we've got, like, the whole family together and we're all a team! And you've got me, the hero, to protect both of you!"

England lowers his sword, confused, "Uh… who?"

***China***

He'd always thought Denmark was a pretty good fighter, but you don't survive upwards of 3,000 years without becoming the best.

"Sorry Denmark, but I'm not ready to die quite yet, aru." He murmured to the unmoving corpse. China glanced at the sky and began walking towards the center of the arena.

***The Shadow Box***

•Eh. Nobody really liked Denmark anyways•

***Bad Touch Trio***

"No France! It's a bad thing they used your language in that message!" Spain stressed.

"How can my language ever be anything bad, mon amie?"

"Because!" the usually cheery nation cried, "I think someone might be trying to frame you for Finland's death!"

"But why would someone do that?"

"Wasn't he married to Sweden, or something?" Prussia interrupted.

"Exactly!" Spain exclaimed. "Whoever killed Finland wanted to piss of Sweden and get him to go after you!"

"And Sweden's a pretty bad-ass fighter, even by my awesome standards."

"Yeah," Spain agreed. "We're gonna have a difficult fight on our hands, he won't listen to reason."

***Greece***

So warm… what's going on again…? Where… am I? Oh yeah. The whole, fight to the death thing. Guess that makes sense as to why I'm dressed as a Spartan. I should probably move before Turkey finds me. Maybe if I find Japan we can team up. Greece stood up, stretched, and started walking in the direction of the middle of the arena.

***Sweden***

He paused on his way across the desert to read the message. He shrugged. Fair enough.

***Austria and Hungary***

"Do you hear that?" Hungary hissed. Austria listened intently for a moment, then nodded. Footsteps. Hungary pulled Austria behind her and bared her frying pan.

It wasn't necessary.

"Poland?"

The normally joyful nation stopped and regarded them solemnly. He wondered if they were going to kill him. He briefly considered his chances.

Again, it wasn't necessary.

Hungary dropped her weapon and offered him a hand. "We don't need to fight. I'm sorry for your loss." She elbowed Austria in the ribs when he tried to protest. Poland found himself smiling as he accepted the offered hand.

***Bad Touch Trio***

Prussia spun around in the crystal clear ocean water, pinning the Frenchman under the shallow waves. He laughed, France struggling to break his hold. Spain panted, laying on the sandy island beach.

"Don't kill him."

"He lost! Loser gets dunked. Prussia-style..."

"So, drowning then?"

"More or less."

Finally he let France up and the poor man, gasping for air, collapsed on the beach beside Spain.

"Why," he coughed, "did we have to swim to this island anyways? With weapons nonetheless?"

"It's nicer here than that random, little, strip of beach," Spain smiles. "Warmer too."

France groaned, peeling off his completely ruined silk doubelett. The other two followed suit. All three were asleep in a matter of moments.

***Sweden***

He stood at the edge of the desert, staring at the island. Wondering what the best way to get there would be.

***England, America and Canada***

"MmmMaphmmM!" America garbled loudly through the marshmallow gluing his jaws shut. The noisy American had brought all sorts of food that he kept, well, who knows where. Finally he stopped talking and stretched, yawning.

"It is getting a bit late," England observed, "perhaps we should all get some rest."

Suddenly America jumped up, yelling.

"What is it you moron?" England yelled.

"The ground is really hard and I sat on a rock." America sat back down and laughed, "No, wait. False alarm dude."

England laid down and turned onto his side, muttering something about killing him in his sleep. America fell back, resting his head in Canada's lap, who was resting against a tree.

"Hey bro." his blue eyes grew serious. "I'm glad you're okay. Really, I was worried about you."

Canada wondered if that was really true, if his twin, who barely ever seemed to notice him, really cared. He didn't believe it, but it was nice to hear anyways. He gave America a small smile which was returned tenfold. The blue-eyed nation shifted and made himself more comfortable on Canada's legs. Yawning, he glanced back at the dying embers of the fire.

"Someone should really keep it going…"

"I'll do it." Canada sighs.

"Thanks bro!" America sits up and shifts Canada further down the tree, so he can more comfortably sleep.

"If we do die, Mattie, I just want you to know, I love you bro."

America pulled Canada into a hug, resting his head on his shoulder. After a moment Canada returns the hug, he knows his brother to well.

"I love you too." He responds, and he means it. He just knows that this, what he has with America right now, won't ever last. His twin will most likely forget him again…

America grows heavier and Canada slowly releases the hug, the American fast asleep. England is also asleep. After about half an hour America is gripping Canada's waist in a bear hug.

***Japan***

America was so easy to follow. He didn't make any effort to cover his tracks and crashed through everything. Oh well. Made him easy to find. Japan crouched low in the bushes, watching their campsite. Nobody on guard, both America and England were asleep. How amateur. He silently slid his katana from its sheath and crept closer to the sleeping, soon to be dead, bodies. Crouching low over America, the black-haired man lifted the blade when he saw something in his peripheral vision flying towards him. Leaping back, he barely had time to block the hockey stick. Looking in his attackers eyes his heart momentarily stopped, thinking it was Russia, but he almost immediately realized it wasn't.

"Who are you?"

"Canada. America's brother. Leave now or I'll kill you."

Japan smirked. "You think you can kill me? Ha."

Before the last words left Japan's mouth, Canada had already swung again. Japan blocked the blow, but it still glanced off his head, scoring a deep gash. Nodding to himself, he sheathed his sword and melted into the surrounding forest.


	4. Chapter 4

***Canada***

_That was close._ He thought to himself, slumping down next to his brother and resting his hockey stick across his lap. If Japan had stayed and fought, Canada knew he woulda snapped. It was getting harder and harder to keep himself in check. He had to get out of here soon. He really didn't want to hurt his brother. Or at least not yet.

***Germany and the Italies***

Germany studied the tall crumbling wall before him. They had been walking all night. Yet he hesitated to go past the barrier. In the distance, though he could be imagining it, the inky blackness seemed to just cloak several imposing, spiraling constructs.

"A city?" He mused to himself, "But why?"

Behind him Italy was watching the sky with wide eyes.

"Did you see all those messages? They keep mentioning names…"

"Yes. Names of all the dead. People are being murdered." Romano rolled his eyes, "Who cares? I wouldn't mind if every bastard here was killed. Makes my life easier."

Italy looked at him, horrified, "Even Spain?"

"Ah… er… Well, that jerk can take care of himself! Besides, I don't need him bossing me around…" Romano muttered to himself. Germany turned around; there was something about this place that filled him with a deep sense of foreboding. An invisible fear, ominous, lurking… he shook his head. It must be the lack of sleep getting to him.

"We'll camp here tonight." He announced. Yet even as they settled down, after both brothers had fallen asleep, Germany couldn't stop throwing looks over his shoulder.

***Sweden***

It was too perfect. His target was laying out on the beach. His weapon to far away to be useful. Alone. Or, at least alone for now. The other one had walked someways down the beach. He was oblivious.

There was no way he could miss…

At the same moment he pulled the trigger a blade sliced across the weapon. He tossed it to the side before the buildup of gunpowder caused it to explode. In an instant he had spun, grabbed a new gun, and came face-to-face with his attacker.

"Hola, Sweden, we've been waiting for you."

***Prussia***

Spain's plan worked! Awesome! I always forget how devious that guy is. Brandishing my broad sword I leap at Sweden. "RAWR!" I yelled with a downward stroke, aimed at his head. He rolled back, narrowly avoiding being sliced open.

"Prussia!"Spain wined, "I wasn't done scaring him yet!"

"The Awesome Me is too awesome to of waited any longer!"

"Whatever. Now that you're here, at least help me kill him, he's getting away."

Sweden had been slowly backing away the entire time they were talking, but now Spain stepped behind him, blocking his path and Prussia lowered his sword to even with his heart.

"Any last words?"

Silence.

"Nothing?" France smirks.

Spain turns, "What is wrong with you two? France, I told you to stay back!"

"What? Why-"

Sweden had pulled a gun at the sight of France, fury on his normally calm, expressionless, face. Prussia's eyes widened slightly as he pulled the trigger.

"France! Get down!" the albino cried, tackling his friends legs so that the bullet only narrowly grazed his arm.

Spain thrust his axe into Sweden's heart. The latter living for long enough to raise himself a bit, blood dribbling over his chin. He glared at France.

"Y-you. Killed him. Burn… in hell." And with those last words the voice left the man already dead.

Prussia looked down at France, who lay unmoving, with concern. He hadn't seen where the bullet had gone. "France…?" he asked slowly. "Are you-"

The romantic blonde sat up, "What was that Prussia? You messed up my beautiful hair!"

Prussia blinked at him slowly, and then punched him in the face, doing more harm than the bullet had. Spain stared at his crimson stained blade for a moment before sighing.

"Are you two okay?"

Prussia brushed off his knuckles, standing, "Yeah. I'm fine."

*** The Shadow Box***

Only 20 left then? It won't be long now.

•He only wanted revenge.

Yet he'll never get it,

Chasing the wrong person.

Sweden•

Looks like the sun is rising…

***Mountains***

Switzerland was worried. He knew he wasn't the strongest country. The best shot, yes, by far, but if anybody snuck up on them and managed to get his guns away from him, odds are he wouldn't be able to win a one-on-one fight. Then, even if he and Lichtenstein managed not to be found and all the other countries killed each other off, only one person was getting out of here alive.

Switzerland knew he would kill himself for Lichtenstein's sake, but when he did (and he knew he would), would she be okay without him? Maybe he should just go ahead and-

"Switzy!"

It was Lichtenstein. Never mind.

"Big bruder!"

"Yes?"

"I brought back a deer, and I refilled our canteens."

She'd be fine without him.

"I can see."

Without her, he could win this.

"Yup! This is kinda fun isn't it?"

But he loved her, she was his sister, he was her big bruder.

"Possibly."

Not truly, they weren't related by blood.

"Maybe I could find something to use as bread and we could make sandwiches."

One bullet, maybe two.

"With what?"

He could feel he was cracking.

"That's what I was saying. Maybe I could find something. Want to help me? We could have a picnic."

He had the gun in his hand.

"No."

It was loaded.

"N-no? Why not?"

He didn't want her to see.

"Lichtenstein, close your eyes."

He aimed the gun.

"Bruder! What are you doing?"

Just a few more seconds.

"I thought I told you to close your eyes."

*BANG*

"Big bru-"

As soon as he pulled the trigger, his mind cleared and he rushed over to his sister, kneeling on the ground beside her.

"Lichtenstein! I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me, I just… I'm sorry."

A bloody flower bloomed on her shirt.

"It's okay *cough* big bruder. I still love you. I don't *cough* know why you did it, but I trust you. I know you always know the right thing to do. I just want you to know, I… still… love…" the last trace of light left her eyes.

Tears streaming down his face and a look of steely determination in his eyes, Switzerland raised his gun for the very last time.

*BANG*

Thick silence settled over the area like a heavy fog, as brother and sister lay together, side by side, with identical glassy-eyed stares at the sky, locked in an eternal picnic.

***The Shadow Box***

It was already starting. The arena itself was driving the contestants mad. Honestly though, the figure watching hadn't thought that those two would be the first to go. Not like that.

•Perhaps it was better this way.

For both to lie in matching eternal peace,

Than for one older brother,

To give his life,

To a battle torn little sister•

It really was a beautiful sunrise.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry my updates are so spaced out and irregular, I'm on summer vacation and that's just how it's going to be, but I promise, I will not give up on this story. Also, I feel I need to explain what the arena looks like. If you've read the Hunger Games (which I do not own) it's kinda like the clock arena. There are multiple slices and each has a different environment in it and in the middle is the ruins of a city.**

***Germany and the Italies***

Italy wrapped his arm around himself, glancing around the cold outliers of the massive, frozen ruins. Germany was in front of him, checking on an empty building.

"Do you hear that?" he asked his brother cautiously.

"What?" Romano snapped.

Italy rocks back and forth a bit, "Is like the ruins are whispering…"

"Don't be stupid! It's just your imagination!"

Germany motions them forward into the building. While they settle down, Romano going to the window, Italy sitting against the back wall, Germany set up debris for a fire.

"We can make some food in a moment."

"Ve! Food!" Italy perks up, smile returning.

A footstep echoes across the ruins. The smile fades.

"Who the hell-" Germany pulls Romano away from the window, clasping a hand over his mouth. They sit frozen as a figure passes close by the building.

"Turkey." Germany whispers, eyes narrowing. The man is covered in blood and carrying an AK-47. Italy follows him with wide eyes.

_The blood, _he mouths,_ who's…_

Germany shakes his head.

Italy whimpers. Turkey stops. Slowly he turns to the sound. He takes a few steps forward scanning the area. After a few moments, apparently satisfied, he turns and continues following the wall back the way they'd just come, towards the dessert.

Romano shoves away from Germany, glaring.

"Don't touch me again, potato-bastard," he glares after Turkey, "and that bastard. Ii hope Greece kills him."

Italy is shaking. His eyes filling with tears.

"I could die," he whimpers, "and you guys could die!"

"That won't happen!" Romano declares, sitting beside him, "I won't let any sorry bastards kill me or you!"

Germany sighs, starting the fire. He really wished Italy was a better soldier sometimes, but he'd still protect him. As long as he was able.

***Russia***

He trudged through the knee-deep snow, making his way towards the middle of the arena. He didn't know how big it was, or how far he'd have to walk, but he knew one sister was still alive. And he knew he wouldn't let anyone hurt this one.

***China***

Was that a wall? Hmm… Must be a city.

***Belarus***

It was time to move on. She had to find her big brother. She would head towards the center.

Big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother, big brother.

***Austria, Hungary, and Poland***

"These ruins are, like, so totally un-cool. The, like totally, creep me out."

"Poland, shhh." Hungary snaps, brandishing her frying pan.

***England, Canada, and America***

"Guys?" Canada murmured, "Maybe we should…"

"GUYS!" America shouts, "We should head towards the center of this arena thingy or whatever the heck it is!"

"Cause that is not what I was just saying." Canada snips to himself.

"Fine with me." England agrees.

***BTT***

"DUDES! The island is sinking!" Prussia screams, waving his arms erratically.

"What?" France yelps.

"We'll have to swim somewhere else." Spain reasons.

"But I just fixed my hair!"

"No matter what, your hair is getting wet."

"Let's swim to the nearest land, and then head towards the center."

"Alright."

***Japan***

"Turkey."

"Who's there?"

"It is me. Japan."

"Oh. Hey Japan! What are you doing here?"

"You are looking for Greece, are you not?"

"Well, yeah."

"I…" there's a long pause, then a sigh, "I know where he is. I can lead you there."

***Greece***

A bullet sank into the sand. Greece grabbed his spear and shield and leapt to his feet.

"Found you!" Turkey calls, grinning viciously.

Greece narrows his eyes, rolling forward, coming up face-to-face with his assultant, smirking.

"Japan still likes me better."

"No! Me!"

"No… he is my best friend."

Greece swings his spear at Turkey's neck, simultaneously knocking the gun from his hand with the edge of his shield. Turkey blocks the next strike with his brass knuckles, spinning away.

"Ha! He likes me way more!"

"No. You hairy face."

"Then why'd he betray you?"

"He didn't betray me! He never would!"

Greece cries, launching himself at Turkey, flipping over his shoulder. Turkey turns and meets the hilt of Greece's spear, sending him flying backwards.

***Japan***

I watch from the shadows. There is no time to hesitate! Greece is winning! Another few moments and there won't be another chance! But… He's my friend. My best friend.

That's why you can't do this yourself!

I want him to live…

Only one of you can live.

I know, but…

"Hey Greece! Over here!" I'm out of cover.

Greece hesitates. He turns. Turkey stands. I bite back a cry of warning. Greece must have been able to see my pain because he stepped forward.

"Kiku, whats-"

Turkey knocks him to the ground. He grabs Greece's spear from where it had fallen. Greece looks at me with wide eyes. I expect him to curse me…

"Kiku, help me! Please, help me!"

_Oh… god… _I want to close my eyes, but can't. I force myself to watch. I fall to my knees when the spear tip plunges through his armor. Tears fill his eyes, brown hair sticking to a stream of blood dripping from his lips.

"Kiku…" He whispers, "Kiku…why?"

He was my friend. My very best friend…

***Shadow Box***

•Whats more important to you?

Friendship or winning?

Japan came to the second conclusion.

Just ask Greece…•

***Belarus***

It was a perfect opportunity. His back was turned. Japan was on his knees, crying over the loss of his friend.

***Turkey***

I fall to the ground, knees slamming into the sand with a soft poof. Belarus is behind me, wiping the blood, my blood, off the meat cleaver she just ran me through with. Blood is dripping from the corners of my mouth and flowing freely from the gaping wound in my chest, staining the sand beneath me. I hear Japan gasp. I can't survive this…

Turkey falls sideways, dead before he hits the ground.

***Shadow Box***

Hmmm… this was generating a lot of bloodshed. Surely only the beginning of the hell that awaited the remaining 17 contestants.

•With the fall of the once great Ottoman Empire,

Japans betrayal is complete, through Belarus.

Now he,

Is

Truly,

Alone•

***Japan***

Before Belarus could even lift her blade a second time, Japan tackled her to the ground. She hissed when he tore the weapon from her fingers, inhuman fury on his face. He threw the bloodstained blade aside, choosing instead to snap her neck. The resounding crack seemed to echo for a few moments.

Japan fell back, staring around him at the corpses. He curled up in the sand, sobbing, between the bodies of his only true friends.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry… it was my fault… I had to… please, please… I'm so sorry… forgive me…"

***Shadow Box***

Well! Who hadn't seen that one coming? Yes… this next message could be short. It was only for one person.

•Sorry.

Russia.

That you couldn't protect her either,

But do you understand?

Japan.

His need for revenge? •


	6. Chapter 6

***Russia***

Had he read that last message correctly? Impossible. Belarus couldn't be dead. His baby sister…

"NO!" He shouted, punching the nearest tree, splitting open the skin on his knuckles.

Japan would pay.

***England, America, and Canada***

The city was really creepy. All the dismal ruins looked like the skeletal remains of some long dead beast. America, being America, decided it must be haunted and started freaking out. Canada was over there trying to calm him down.

"Both of you! Quiet. Now!" I hissed, I coulda sworn I just heard something.

"Iggy," America whined, "Why?"

Another voice answered before I had the chance. A voice I recalled from my days as a pirate.

"Because I'm here." I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Spain." I growled.

"Hola, England. I haven't spoken to you since you sunk my armada."

"That pathetic fleet of ships? It was child's play to destroy it."

Spain ground his teeth.

"This time you don't have your ships to protect you. I've always been able to beat you mano y mano."

"Bring. It. On."

Spain hoisted his axe and England drew his sword. France and Prussia strode forward. England and Spain start to revert back to how they were during their pirate days.

"No, stay back." Spain waves his hand at his friends. "This be between him and me."

Immediately they are they are on each other, in a blur of flashing metal. They were matching each other blow for blow.

"This," Spain pants, "This brings back memories, doesn't it England?"

"Sure does, but I'm equally sure you remember what happens next? I beat you and you become my prisoner~. And then I can do _whatever _I want with you."

Spain smirks, "But not this time."

He pushing England back, wielding his axe faster and faster. The English man is shocked, he falters and recovers quickly, but it's all the opening Spain needs. He swiftly disarms England.

"Any last words?"

"IGGY! NO! Matthew, let go of me!"

Spain glances in the direction of the noise. America was trying to run to England's aid, but his brother was holding him back.

"Let me help him!"

"No Alfred! We can't. They would beat us."

"But I have to save him! I'm the hero!"

The normally meek Canadian just held his brother's arm tighter and pulled him back into the cover of the rubble, but not in time to miss seeing Spain sever England's head from his shoulders.

"NOOOOOOO!" America chokes up and breaks down crying on his brother's shoulder.

Prussia claps Spain on the shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

***Shadow Box***

Interesting. What consequences would this produce?

•Who would have thought,

That grudges so long unsettled,

Could bring consequences this far ahead?

England, foolish England…•

***BTT***

"Stop!" France yells coming to a halt. The other two look back at him. There are tears in his blue eyes.

"Fran-" Prussia starts, stepping towards him.

"No!" France steps back, he turns to Spain, "why did you have to kill him?"

Spain sighs, "Because only one person is getting out of here alive."

"But…" France wraps his arms around himself, looking back. Spain gives him a sad smile, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it hurts, I'm sorry," Spain says quietly.

France pulls away, "I-I just need some time alone…" he walks off into the woods. After a few minutes Spain gives Prussia an exasperate look.

"I know," Prussia rolls his eyes, "He can't survive on his own. Let's go get him."

***America and Canada***

"Al, it's okay," Canada kneeled beside his brother, who was crouched over England, sobbing. "Shhh… he died for you, it's okay."

America shook his head, sobs choking out his words.

"Shhh…" Canada wraps his arm around America's shoulder, "I'm sorry"

"Don't." America mumbles.

"What?" Canada leans closer not having heard him clearly, maybe he misunderstood.

"Don't touch me."

"Don't, what?" now he was just confused. Why wouldn't Alfred want him to comfort him?

"I said, don't touch me!" America shoves away from his brother.

"Alfred?"

"Stop. Just stop."

"Whats wrong? What-"

"Whats WRONG? Arthur is DEAD! HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE WHATS WRONG!"

"I know, I know, but Al, why-"

"AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Wha… what?"

"It was YOU who pulled me back! It was YOU who let him die!"

"I-I'm sorry, Al, please! I had to!"

"IF YOU HADENT PULLED ME AWAY I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!"

"But-but we would have been killed… I was helping… I'm sorry…"

America stood and glared at Canada.

"He wouldn't have died if YOU had let me fight!"

Canada stepped back, flinching under Americas rage.

"I miss him too… I-I didn't do it because-"

"YOU DON'T CARE ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!"

"I do… but I w-wanted to save you…"

"HE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE IF YOU HADENT BEEN HERE! WE WERE BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU!"

"I'm so, so sorry… I didn't know… please Alfred, please-"

"I WISH YOU'D NEVER EXISTED!"

Silence.

*SMACK*

"How dare you blame me. I am at no fault here, unless you count saving your miserable life."

America stood there in shock as his usually peaceful brother turned on him.

"I think it's time for you to feel pain. A mere fraction of the pain you've caused me to feel all these years." The Canadian man threatened hysterically, swinging his steel hockey stick at his brother's head. America ducked, but a little too late and Canada managed to score a glancing blow on the top of his head.

"Mattie! Bro! Stop, please! I'm sorry!" the blue eyed nation cried, frantically backing away.

"I'm sorry to, Al." he paused, grinning maniacally. "Sorry for not doing this sooner!"

He begins to walk forward, but stops when America raises his gun.

"Stop. That's close enough. I don't want to shoot you, Mattie, but I will if I have to."

Canada smirks, taking another step.

"Will you 'bro'? Could you really shoot me?"

He spreads his arms. Another step.

"Shoot me now. If you can. I promise, you won't get another chance."


	7. Chapter 7

They look each other in the eye. America looks away, dropping his gun.

"I can't do it Mattie. I love you too much, you're my brother. I can't shoot you."

"I know." He snarled swinging his weapon and hitting America square in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Repeatedly he hits his brother, the face, the stomach, chest, before throwing the hockey stick to the side and tackling his brother, choosing to beat the semi-conscious man with his fists.

"You. Are. The. Absolute. Worst. Brother. Ever." Each word was punctuated with a punch. Wiping his bloody hands on his pants, Canada stood up.

" Hmmmm…" he mused to himself. "You stay here. I'm gonna go get a few things real quick."

He walked back to England's corpse and took his sword and lighter.

"These'll do nicely."

Back over by America, he puts together a torch, then sets it on the ground, unlit, by the lighter. Clutching the sword, he crouches by Americas left side.

He grabs his brothers arm, asking, "You're right handed, correct? So you really don't need this arm, do you?"

He plunges the sword into America's armpit, hitting his shoulder bone. America lets out a blood curdling scream and he almost passes out from the pain. Wiggling the sword around, Canada works on carving the flesh off the bone around the area where shoulder and arm connect. Piece by piece muscle and skin drop to the ground, finally all that's left is exposed bone. Canada lifts Americas arm straight up and stomps on his shoulder, breaking the bone, ignoring his brothers pained cries. He then proceeds to twist the arm around and rip it off; blood is pouring out of the wound.

"Oh no!" Canada cries with mock horror. "You're bleeding! I can't have you bleeding to death!"

He flips the arm around so the hand is facing the mangled shoulder and starts to work the hand into the gaping hole, around the bone stump. Picking up the torch, he lights it.

"Wouldn't want that arm falling back off…"

He holds the fire directly under the wound, melting the skin back together. America glares at his brother one last time, and passes out, the pain is too much.

Canada stands and retrieves his hockey stick.

"Now, time to go find Russia." He walks away, leaving his brother to whatever his fate may be.

***Germany and the Italies***

"But fratello-"

"Oh, you'll be fine! You've got that damn potato-basted."

"B-but you promised you wouldn't die! You promised you wouldn't let anybody kill me!"

"Which is exactly why I'm going to go find Spain! I'll be safer with him and you'll be safer if potato-bastard here only looks after you!"

"But…but…"

"Don't be stupid. You know this'll work better."

"Don't be mean to your brother." Germany butts in, standing beside Italy.

"Don't tell me what to do potato-bastard!" Romano starts to walk away, "You'll be fine!"

"Don't leave me…" Italy whispers, but no one hears him.

Germany shakes his head, getting back to business, "Right. Now that it's just us, there's less food we'll have to scavenge. I'll be back in about an hour. Keep your head down and try not to make too much noise."

Italy nods weakly, slumping against the wall.

Germany hesitates. _Should he really leave him…? Yes. He had to. He'd be fine. It's not like he'd be gone long._

Italy blankly watches them both leave. He was… alone. Absentmindedly he scrapes a sharp stone against the wooden base of his white flag.

Surrender was no longer an option, was it?

***Russia***

Who was that? Whoever it was he was covered in blood. He tightened his grip on his pipe. Wonderful. A fight would do him good right now. Then he recognized the man. He had both hands up, steel hockey sick slung across his back.

"Have you come here to fight me?" Russia asks, tensed.

"Not quite, comrade," Canada is wearing a demented smile, "Not quite."

"Then what is it you want?"

Canada puts his arms down and reaches one out towards Russia, "Well, I think it's about time we made an alliance."

Russia regards the slightly smaller nation's hand. He does not move.

Canada's smile grows, "Come on. I know you want revenge. I can guarantee it. I've already had mine. And it is sweet, comrade, wonderful."

Russia chuckles, taking his hand, "So that explains the blood then. Your brother was it, da?"

" Yeah."

"You kill him? I did not see the message."

Canada's smile falters, "I… no, of course I didn't… kill him."

The doubt was gone as soon as it had arisen.

"He'll merely have a hard time fighting. A lot easier with both arms, eh?"

Russia simply smiles quietly. Everyone around him was snapping, he could feel it. Yet he had snapped long ago. Both his sisters were gone, and there was nothing left for this place to take.

***Romano***

I know I told them I'd be fine, but… if I didn't find Spain soon I was going to be in a shit ton of trouble. My only weapon was a slingshot for crying out loud! How the hell am I supposed to defend myself with nothing, but a fucking slingshot!

"Damn it basterd, where are you?" I ask out loud, not expecting a reply.

"Shhh! Guys, I think I heard something!" a voice stage whispers, but it's loud enough for Romano to recognize it.

"Tomato basterd! Is that you?" Romano shouts, crossing his arms irritatedly.

"Lovi~? Is that your voice I hear?"

"Si bastatdo. Come and find me. I don't know where you are."

An overly joyful Spaniard bounds out of the surrounding rubble and tackles the scowling Italian in a massive bear hug.

"Mi tomatito! Como estas? I've missed you so much!"

"Get off me basterd! I'm fine!" he sputters indignantly, blushing deep red. Spain turns to face Prussia and France.

"Let's get going. It's getting dark and we need to set up camp."

They nod and begin to walk away. Romano stands there fidgeting, not quite sure if he should follow. Spain glances over his shoulder, "Hurry up, Lovi, you don't want to get left behind!"

"I'm coming, tomato-basterd!" he shouts, following gratefully.

***China***

But then, of course, Japan had been busy, hadn't he? Why should this surprise him? He had figured, after all, that they would come face to face at some point.

"I should've known you'd betray me," China calls across the short space separating them, "again. You betrayed your 'best friends' after all, didn't you?"

Japans hand tenses on his katana, but he makes no move or sound.

"You have no loyalty above yourself."

Finally, Japan speaks, very quietly, "Do I?"

"You do. And I feel it's about time someone made you pay."

The smaller man draws his katana, "And that would be you?"

"If it has to be, then I will be the one to take you down."

"We will see."

And both closed the distance between them.

**A/N: I never understood why people ask for reviews until I posted a story, but now I do! So please review, even if it's something short like, I like this, or even a flame.** **I just want to know what you think. And thanks so much to those who have reviewed! I love you guys!**


	8. Chapter 8

***America***

I woke up in a sort of haze.

"What…" When I tried to sit up my left arm didn't move. In fact I couldn't feel it at all. I twist, crying out at the searing pain across my body, and see my left arm. Or… what remained.

"Oh god…" I whisper, remembering what had happened, "oh g-god…"

I manage to crawl to my knees before vomiting blood. The mangled limb pulls my burnt flesh, melted around the dead fingers. I can't leave it like that. I can't. I know. But I want to. But I can't.

A small experimental tug sends tears to my eyes. Pain… Damn it I can't do this! I can't leave it dead there though… Suck it up…

I roll up the seared sleeve of my bomber jacket and shove it in my mouth, clenching my eyes shut. I pull as hard as I can. FUCK! Pain, pain, pain! And it hasn't come all the way out, blood and torn flesh sticking to the hand. DAMN IT! I screamed into the leather, again and again. Ripping, tearing… lost in pain and agony for what seemed like hours, but I knew was only seconds.

Finally the arm falls free.

I clutch my shoulder, where fresh blood has already begun seeping out. I press my face to the cool ground, praying wordlessly. What have I done to deserve this?

After a few more moments I shakily reach for the fire starter. At least… At least he left me this… I'm shaking so badly I can hardly start a fire. Still praying, still sobbing wordlessly I lower my wound over the open flame. I can hardly gather the strength to scream again, but my body wrenches it out of me. I jerk away from the flame, falling against Iggy's body.

Who was I kidding when I blamed Mattie? This… this… was my fault. All of this… And I was alone… Alone? Completely… deserving… pain… all of this.

Not even my people. I couldn't turn to them.

I couldn't feel them.

Completely alone. Broken. Weak. Alone.

"I'm s-sorry," I sob over his body, "So-so… so sorry…"

***Russia and Canada***

Canada spotted the fire first. Well, the smoke really, rising against that blue sky.

"Russia."

"Da?"

"There's someone over there." He gestures in the direction of the smoke. "Let's go kill them."

Russia smiled. "Da. That is good idea comrade."

Minutes later Russia and Canada walk straight into the middle of Hungary, Austria and Poland's camp.

Hungary is the first to notice him.

"Canada? What are you…?" She trails off, noticing Russia. "You've teamed up, haven't you." It's not a question.

"Austria, find something to use as a weapon. Poland, grab your stilettos."

Austria glances at Poland with dry amusement.

"You fight with shoes?"

"Like no? Stiletto, like totally, means tiny dagger or something in some, like, foreign language. I fight with knives."

Not a second after Poland finished talking; Russia swung his pipe, connecting with Poland's side.

With a pained yelp, the blonde man drops to the ground. Hungary used this as a distraction and attacked Canada, who quickly blocked her strike. She kept pressing forward and appeared to be gaining the upper hand. Then Canada smiled. Suddenly he looked like the gentle, sweet boy Hungary knew him as and she paused in her onslaught. The smile instantly vanished and was replaced by a humorless scowl, a cold look of indifference in his eyes.

Russia stands back, watching as Canada breaks Hungary's arm with his hockey stick, effectively disarming her. He kicks her in the stomach and she doubles over in pain. Without hesitation he brings his stick down on her head, smashing open her head. Dead, she falls to the ground.

Austria gasps in shock and sadness, reminding the attacking countries of his presence. They advance towards him and he turns to run. To slow. Quick as thought, Russia is in front of him, blocking his escape, as Canada continues to approach from behind.

Weaponless and desperate, Austria throws himself at Russia, but before he even gets close he's knocked to the side by Russia's pipe.

On the ground, on his back, the music loving nation can only watch as Russia brings his pipe down, crushing his windpipe.

Grinning with the happiness only a madman can, Russia started building up the fire.

"What about Poland?" Canada asks with mild confusion, "Is he dead?"

"Nyet. I have a plan for him."

"Oh yeah? Whats that?"

Russia's grin widens even more. "I want to eat him."

Canada nods his head. "Alright, but why do you want him alive?"

"Silly little one," Russia chides. "Dead meat is no fun!"

The fire is roaring now. Russia lifts Poland's limp body, extracting a pained groan from the usually bubbly nation. Pinning Poland's arms to his sides with one massive arm, he pulls the smaller mans pants off with the other and thrusts his lower half into the fire. Poland screams and starts to thrash, but his broken ribs quickly quell any erratic movements.

Poland soon passes out, twitching violently. Minutes later, he is removed from the fire.

Lifting him by an ankle, Russia gives the charred, black leg a cursory sniff.

"Canada, see if you can find some cups, drain some blood into them. Dinner is ready." Russia opens his mouth and bites a chunk out of Poland's leg. "Delicious."

***Shadow Box***

The figure licks their lips. So many more. We are close, aren't we? Now that was three… so three messages, then. Or one? No, better to keep it all separate, can't have confusion.

Hungary;

•You'll be missed by more than who has died,

Though pretty obvious who you were,

The only girl left,

But no more•

Austria;

•I didn't hear any music playing,

When you died,

But I'm sure Hungary wouldn't be too opposed,

Had she not fallen as well•

Poland;

•I was, like, doing something,

And then I, like, totally, was

Killed and, totes, died•

LoLz. Things were getting a little serious there…


	9. Chapter 9

***China and Japan***

They'd been fighting for what seemed like hours, each exhausted, each battle torn, each unwilling to surrender.

"You ever going to realize you've been beaten, brother?"

China snarls at Japans words, his hair flying free around his face as he leaps back to avoid a strike.

"You are no brother of mine." He retorts.

Japan smirks, "Blood cannot be changed."

"The vessel it is contained in can be destroyed."

"But the soul still exists," A hit lacerates Chinas arm as Japan speaks, "and the mark still remains."

China thinks of his scar, Japan flipping away from a slice that severs the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sometimes the mark is necessary to remind one that the other cannot be trusted."

Japan lapses into silence. They fight for another long period, filled only with the grunts exertion and the clash of steel on steel. China is faltering and Japan is already weak. This fight won't last much longer and they both know that. Then the moment comes. It could have been an accident, how suddenly it happened.

Japan was instantly above china as he fell. Before he even hit the ground, his katana was plunging through the elder's chest.

With a small sigh, Japan attempted to rise… and found he could not. His whole body was weak; he could no longer control his own limbs.

Looking down he saw why. As he had impaled China, so China had done to him.

Tears welled in his eyes… he had done all that… killed his best friends… for NOTHING?

China wears a bloody grin of satisfaction.

"I-I had to… survive," Japan whispers weakly, "Don't you understand that, brother?"

"No. but you can explain it…. In hell."

***Shadow Box***

Maybe the comic relief last time had been a bit much… oh, well. Two more dead so soon. One message then, this time.

•Brothers bound,

Of not belief or faith perhaps,

But blood all the same,

Of relationships wrought in betrayal,

Not trust or love,

Is it any surprise?

This end so soon to

Both of no fault, but each other's•

***BTT and Romano***

Prussia paused in the middle of his joke, smile faltering, face going whiter than normal. He dropped the branch he had been brandishing and sank into a sitting position, looking deeply in thought.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Spain asks gently, crouching beside his friend. France didn't join them, he was reading the sky.

"It's… Hungary and Austria," he read the next message, a little confused, "and… uh, Poland."

"Oh, mi amigo, I'm so sorry."

Prussia rubs furiously at his eyes, then smiles, but it's obviously forced. "It's okay. I'm too awesome to cry." France and Spain hug the tearful Prussian from either side. Not fighting the hug, even though there's some definite groping on Frances part, he says "I'm fine guys! France, quit grabbing my ass."

The Frenchman obliges, "Just trying to make you feel better by spreading the love."

Prussia pushes them off and stands up. "I just wish I knew who killed them, I mean, Hungary's a pretty good fighter, ya know?"

"Yeah," France sighs, mentally going over the contestants left, "I wonder who…"

***Italy and Germany***

Germany had returned earlier than he had planned because he was worried. There had been quite a few deaths lately and, well, Italy was not the best at dealing with things of such nature.

It did nothing to help his concern when, as he drew nearer to their base, he heard a muted muttering. He slowed and attempted to listen, but it was cut off abruptly by a song sung in clear, flowing, Italian.

_That must be him then… he sounds unharmed, _yet still Germany's instincts were on high alert. But he ignored the warnings is emotions were giving him and ducked inside.

"Hello," he called, not glancing around, just setting what he had managed to gather on the floor beside him.

"Oh," sang the sweet Italian voice, "he's back. He's early. Surprise, surprise! He's back at all…"

Germany stood slowly, confused. It sounded like Italy, his voice not betraying any hint of madness, but his words…

"Is this some sort of game?"

"Game?" Italy giggles, "This is all a game isn't it? Life's a game."

Germany sees the normally bubbly nation sitting with his back to him. Italy is rocking slightly, cradling his white flag.

"Death… is a game."

"Feliciano-" Germany starts, moving toward him as one would a caged animal.

"No, no, no," Italy cuts him off, shaking his head, "Don't speak. Just listen. Alone I could see… I was afraid, but I could see. Clearly. And I understand… are you afraid Ludwig? Scared?"

Germany hesitates, then reaches a hand to rest on Italy's shoulder, "Why are you asking? Are you okay? Take a moment to think."

The pasta obsessed nation spins suddenly, facing the taller on his feet. "You think I'm mad don't you? DON'T YOU?"

Germany steps back, eyeing the sharp rock clutched in one of Italy's hands. Before he can speak Italy laughs softly, as if Germany had spoken.

"Of course you do. Of course… but this, THIS, is not madness. It is REALIZATION! I am no longer _afraid_ Ludwig. Don't you want that for me? I can fight. I will."

"Just calm down." Germany orders. "Put down the rock."

"No one. NO ONE! Will protect me here. Not you, not him, not anyone. This is all… a game… and there can only be-"

Germany lunges, knocking what he thought to be the auburn haired nation's only weapon away.

"-one-"

He fails to notice the sharpened point of the base of the white flag.

"winner."

And he looks into the eyes of his murderer, his best friend, and indeed there is no madness there. His face is blank, emotionless. Perhaps even a trace of happiness. So much like the Italy he had always known…

"It is better this way," Italy coos gently before Germany's spirit can fully leave its vessel. "I killed you because I love you, and now no one can take you from me. This is an act… of compassion."

Humming tunelessly, Italy pulls away his flag, closes Germany's eyes, and lays him down to rest. He only spares a single glance back before leaving.

***Shadow Box***

That was beautiful. Truly. What a way to kill!

•Through death their friendship,

In a way,

It still lives on by one alive.

Though is this better,

Living brother unlike friend,

That your dearest younger sibling,

Has been granted peace by death?•

Really, Prussia should get the message. How many brothers were left? Better make sure.

•Goodbye, Germany…•

***BTT and Romano***

Prussia sank to his knees. _This cannot be happening! _Tears were streaming down his face before he even finished the message. _Not Germany! Not my baby brother… I would've given my life for him to win this! He can't be dead! _

Eyes redder than normal, the Prussian man stood and looked at his friends, a look of utter despair on his face. Nobody said anything. Not even Romano had a snide comment.

"Is there anything we can do?" Spain asked softly.

Prussia shook his head slowly. "No," he said, voice choked with sobs. "I just need to be alone for a while."

"Don't do anything you'll regret." France warned the albinos back as he stumbled away. 


	10. Chapter 10

***America***

He slumped against the broken wall, feeling that the destroyed city reflected his spirit pretty accurately. And he didn't understand. He had walked so far… how come his fear, his pain, his sorrow… were so close?

A figure appeared in the shadows at the edge of the forest. America struggled to pull out his shotgun, fumbling with loading it, rounds falling to the ground. He sank to his knees, scrambling to be able to fight back.

"Don't bother…" The voice was utterly broken, "I-I won't attack you."

America cautiously glanced up. The figure had stepped out of the shadows. It was Prussia, he looked horrible.

"Oh… Gilbert…" He said softly. Prussia was Matthew's friend. Matthew… tears spilled down his cheeks again, he turned away.

"I'm sorry… about Germany. I know-"

"Know what?" Prussia demanded, despair clutching his heart at the mention of his brother' "You don't understand this! You're not sorry!"

"Don't understand?" America's voice held no anger; he couldn't even bring himself to… to feel much anymore. "My father, you- you saw w-what happened… I watched h-him die… don't you- don't you think that hurt? And, Matti- Matti- Matthew… look at my arm," Americas voice broke on a note of anger, "he did this to me. My _brother. _I understand… more- more than I'd ever want to…"

Prussia remained silent. He wanted to loathe America for understanding. He wanted to scream and cry and tear the world and heavens apart until they relinquished his brother. He didn't want this blue eyed nation to relate. He wanted to believe he was alone in his pain… his own private hell.

America watched Prussia collapse, watched his shoulders heave with sobs, and understood the point he had needed. He stood and walked over to Prussia, wrapping his only arm around him, kneeling beside him. To cry without worry of strength or courage before another man…

"I am sorry," America whispered, "But it gets easier… Eventually- eventually… the hurt… it goes away... and- and you stop feeling… entirely."

***Italy***

Singing something that sounded suspiciously like a mix between 'Last Friday Night' and 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Frenchman', Italy flounced into the forest clearing. He had gotten away from that stupid city to, er, get in touch with his 'wild side'! Of course, this being Italy, he didn't exactly have a wild side and had only managed to get himself lost. But in his lostness he found something _quite _unexpected indeed. Was that, oh could it be? Spain's voice? It was!

Italy spun his bloodstained flag, as Spain caught sight of him. He, sadly, didn't notice the bloodstains.

"Feliciano!" he cried in joy, dropping the firewood he was holding and charged into the clearing for a hug, dropping his hal-bred beside him.

Instantly he felt something very, very wrong.

A red hot feeling that began in his chest and spread fire to every vein, followed by ice as he slid further into his hug. Italy had turned the flag so that when Spain had charged him, the point had sliced cleanly into is lungs. Spain's arms fell limply at Italy's sides.

"Where is my fratello?" Italy demanded.

Spain opened and closed his mouth, blood bubbling past the corners of his lips. Eyes going from hurt to emptiness.

"Tell me! I know you know!" he shakes his flag, Spain slides lifelessly off of it, hitting the ground with a small thud.

Italy looks at him blankly for a moment, then understanding dawns. "Oh, you're dead. Well. That is unfortunate …"

And so he waits instead, ignorant mostly, of the bright crimson he had just spilled down his uniform. Finally, it didn't take long, he was rewarded for his patience.

"Tomato bastard! Where the hell… Feli- what the HELL?"

"Ciao, fratello!"

"Feliciano…? Did you do this?" The horrified Italian demanded.

"I just wanted to know where you were." He pouted

Romano looked at the body of his best friend, then at the bloodstains on his brother's uniform. His eyes began to get misty with tears, but he shook his head violently. He could cry later. Now was not the time.

"This isn't you Feli." He whispered, barely audible. He would protect his brother till his last breath, but this… this monster was NOT his brother. His bubbly, innocent, cheerful, brother. His hands tightly gripped Spain's hal-bred. He hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.

"This isn't you!"

The blood splattered man tilted his head in confusion, "Ve? Of course it is."

"No." He stated, tears returning. "It isn't."

Suddenly he charged his brother, only to be blocked by his flag.

"Fratello?" Italy asked, voice wavering like he was about to cry. "What are you doing?"

Romano looked up to see the face of his brother, innocent and fearful. In his surprise, he took a step back and the face transformed to a snarl, eyes full of hate.

Italy managed to stab at Romano, who easily blocked. (He _was _the better fighter.) Swinging the hal-bred, he caught Italy in the back of the knees, knocking him to the ground. Before Italy had a chance to get up, or Romano to change his mind, he stabbed the point of the weapon down, piercing his brother's heart.

Sinking to his knees he began sobbing. It was hours later before he had the strength to stumble some distance away and pass out in the underbrush.

***Shadow Box***

They were all dying off so fast…

•A hatred born of love to crush love.

I suppose pain always goes hand in hand,

With fate.

When better brother, more loved at least,

Falls to harsher brothers feet,

By cause of slaughter to the others loved one.

But as it holds now, bitter Romano has good reason,

To be bitter•

Twilight was the best time of day wasn't it? Sunsets are so nice…

***France***

Did that mean… that Spain… No, no it couldn't… he must be misinterpreting it… they didn't make much sense anyways…

Yet in his heart he knew the truth. He just refused to accept it.

"I-I have to find Gil…" He says quietly. "He'll know what to do."

(Not a second thought to Romano. We all expected as much.)

***America and Prussia***

"America, America, god shed his grace-"

"Stop. Singing. That." Prussia growls, keeping his eyes clenched shut.

"Right. Sorry." There's silence for a moment then, softly, "Because I'm proud to be an American, where at least-"

"How many songs do you know that are about you?"

"All of them."

"How many ARE THERE?"

"Over 9-…"

"What is it?" Prussia opens his eyes to find America staring into a dimming sky. His voice softens, "Who was it?"

"It was Italy…" America watches the relief on Prussia's face and can barely bring himself to say the next words, "And Spain. I'm so sorry."

"No. No, don't be… I-"

But whatever he's about to say is lost as France comes crashing through the bushes.

"Gil! There you are! I've been looking for you! I had to leave Antonio though, I-"

Prussia stops him, standing slowly, "Francis, Antonio is dead."

"No! No… he's… just not hear yet is all…"

Prussia grips both his friends' shoulders tightly, staring into his confused, blue eyes, his scarlet ones already filled once more with tears.

"He's dead."

"No-"

"Listen to me! I don't want it to be real either, but it is," Prussia's voice breaks, "It is…"

"Gil, why…"

"I'm not lying to you… I wouldn't…" the albino man pulled France into a one sided hug. "You can't hide from this. He's gone, Francis, he's not coming back."

Finally France's shoulders shake with sobs as the news sinks in. he doesn't return the hug.

"I know… I know… I miss him too…"

America turns away from them, humming the lyrics to the song American Soldier.

***Canada***

The sun had set about an hour ago. He had been walking the entire time. Finding him had not been an accident and the others had been a bonus. A lucky mistake. His father. His brother. His closest friend' he didn't have many.

Canada stepped out from the city limits, leaning against the wall. He waited till they fell silent. Tense. Waiting. And then he smiled warmly.

"Bonjour, papa. Commet-vas tu?" he said politely, quietly.

France's wariness seemed to wane. "Je vais-" France is cut off by Prussia, whose shaking his head.

"Birdie, you're covered in blood. Don't pretend you're calm, or even sane. I know what you did to your brother."

"Do you?" Canada glances over their shoulders at his twin. "Or do you only have what he told you? He could be lying."

"He's missing an _arm _birdie! You think he did that to himself?"

Canada levels his gaze with France's, "You don't know how far gone he is. Do you, papa?"

France feels his resolve fading as he looks into his sons eyes. "I-I don't know…"

Prussia gives a cry of frustration, America steps forward to speak. Canada takes this as an opportunity to attack Prussia.

France acted in an instant, diving between them, shoving Prussia away.

"Franc-" He cries, cutting off, sickened as the steel hockey stick crushes his best friends lungs.

Canada looks impassively at his fallen father. "Hmm. Not my target, but he had it coming." Prussia's head snaps up. "Had it coming? HAD IT COMING? He gave his life for me! He probably never thought that you would kill him!"

Prussia is on his feet clutching his sword.

"He was your FATHER! He loved you!"

Canada snarls, "He never loved me. If he had, he would have-"

"Have WHAT? Remembered you? You're only hurting everyone who's ever bothered to care!"

Prussia furiously attacks his former friend. Taking out all his pain, hurt, and anger on the Canadian.

"I would give anything to have my family back! ANYTHING! And you're killing yours! You're sick. You're sick and I can't believe I was ever your friend, Matthew."

Canada fell silent and, seemingly with new power, knocked Prussia's blade clean from his hand. Prussia scrambled after it, dodging blow after blow. Yet he wasn't quite fast enough. With an air-splitting scream, Canada shattered his spine.

"You don't have to be my friend." Canada retrieves the sword. "It will make this easier."

The cold nation slits the albino's throat, watching crimson flow from the unnaturally straight gash. Like a second smile under his cold, dead eyes. Canada studies him.

"You're with your family now. Are you happy?"

A click sounds by his side. He turns to find his brother pointing the barrel of his shotgun at him.

"We've been here before, Al." He says, calmly stepping over Prussia's corpse, "You couldn't do it."

America steps back for every step taken towards him. He keeps the shotgun leveled with his brother's forehead.

"I can do it now. I can…" America speaks shakily, "I've seen what you've done. My friends… the way you killed them…"

Canada stands only centimeters from the barrel.

"Can you?"

America's finger twitches on the trigger, he begins to pull. Canada's eyes widen in a split second of shock. He slams his hockey stick into his brother's chest. There's a series of cracks. As a reflex the trigger is pulled. Canada jerks back and-

*Click*


End file.
